Selected Episodes of House
by Orchidsoul
Summary: Compliant with 1st and some/most second season canon. Traditional show love interests.


In a dark, smoky theatre, the curtain rises on the stage and the audience is submerged into a rapt silence. A spotlight comes the rest on center stage and an almost hypnotic jazz tune begins to play. The performer, a woman, glides onto the stage, seductively smiling at the audience of over a thousand. Playfully, she begins to remove her vintage-styled clothing in time to the music. The audience applauds the burlesque ingénue as she works her way down to the corset and garters, giving them a naughty wink. She steps out of her shoes and makes to turn her back to the audience when she falls. She crumples to the ground like a limp rag doll without a moment's notice. A panicked murmur rises from the audience. The curtain goes down, rapidly.

Behind the curtain, stage hands work quickly, pulling her unconscious form off the stage and into the wings as her assistant calls for an ambulance. The second act is rushed from her dressing room in a hurry. She will have to go on stage right away. There is no time for her to put on a second coat of mascara. The show must go on. The wail of the jazz band covers the sound of the ambulance siren as they pull up to the back of the building. The young woman is hustled onto a gurney.

"Which hospital?" the paramedic asks the assistant.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," the assistant replies, as her boss is secured in the back of the ambulance.

The ambulance doors are slammed shut and the vehicle takes off into the rainy New Jersey night.

[***}

Cuddy closes in on House as he makes his way to his office the next morning, and he pretends to ignore the hard click-clack of her heels on the hospital floor. She holds a thin file in her hand and wears a determined look on her face.

"House," she calls.

"Mouse. Douse. Louse. Levi-Strauss," he deadpans, stopping to face her. "Oh. We're not playing the rhyme game?"

Cuddy glares and presses the file into his hand. "Your new case."

"I don't have a say in this anymore?" he says, trying to hand back the file. "I thought I told you that I don't take boring cases... I'd rather bore myself and my team than take on another open and shut Lupis case."

"Stop being such a sarcastic jerk for five minutes and read the file," she instructs.

"Read it to me? Your unusually grating voice might actually keep me awake through it," he says, tapping her leg with his cane.

Cuddy lets out a resigned sigh. "Female patient, age twenty-six, presented with a sudden fainting spell last night..."

"Yada-yada-yada."

"Paramedics could not restore her to a fully conscious state, so they administered adrenaline. She began to seize in the ER."

"Yeah, yeah, get to the weird part."

"Cleanest family history that ever existed. Not a single relative in three generations has had a chronic condition, disease, cancer... or died younger than 70 years old. Oh, and did I mention spontaneous bruises?"

"Yeah, boring," he says, waving his left hand in dismissal.

"MRI of her brain was normal."

House gives Cuddy a blank stare.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to pull this card but..." she begins.

"But you're forcing me to take the case as my boss?"

"But, she's a burlesque dancer, and given how much more preferable you find it to treat attractive patients..." she continues.

"Sold!" he declares, taking the file and making his way to his office, leaving Cuddy to shake her head at him.

He walks into the office where Cameron, Foreman, and Chase are waiting patiently, discussing their weekends.

"Good morning," House greets them, flicking the folder onto the table in their direction. "Chase, seeing as how you've been such a good boy lately, you can take dictation and write on the board."

Chase springs up and eagerly uncaps the marker.

"Female. Age twenty-six. Spontaneous fainting. Loss of consciousness. Administered adrenaline by paramedics who thought she was on drugs. Seizure. Spontaneous bruising. MRI of her brain was completely normal according to Cuddy. And go!" House directs, looking at them expectantly.

"History?" Chase asks.

"Clean. No history of anything in the family, ever..." House states.

"Patients lie," Foreman recites from memory.

"True. For now, we'll work on the premise of spontaneous and random onset. Can you handle the mystery?" House taunts.

"Acute disseminated encephalomyelitis," Foreman guesses.

"Doesn't explain the bruising, and it doesn't fit with the normal MRI," Cameron counters.

"Diabetes?" Chase guesses.

"Blood tests administered here last night show normal blood-glucose and insulin levels," House muses.

"Anemia," Chase counters.

"Ah, but is that the symptom or the cause?" House interrogates.

"Symptom," Foreman states decisively.

"I'm going to go with Foreman on that," House replies.

"Leukemia?" Cameron guesses.

"Solid possibility. Alright kids, sit tight, daddy's going to go examine our patient, and I'll page you when I'm ready for you to come collect blood and a bone marrow sample," House states with a grin.

"You haven't even seen the patient yet!" Cameron exclaims.

"You're going to examine a patient by choice?" Chase and Foreman ask in tandem.

"Be good. Brainstorm some other mysterious diseases in case it's not boring old leukemia. That would just be too easy," House instructs, leaving the room.

[***}

House observes the patient through the glass before entering. He notes that she looks pale, and that's not just the garish powder and paint on her face that passes for make-up on the stage. She certainly does not disappoint; she's certainly beautiful, but a little too delicate for his taste. He likes his women to look like they could run a mile, not keel over from lifting a heavy box. He raps on the glass with his cane as he passes the threshold and her eyelids flutter open.

"Hello," she greets him, her voice groggy with sleep.

"I'm your doctor, here to save you," he states sarcastically.

"I might die, but as long as you live I'll rest assured that sarcasm is alive and well," she replies, laughing weakly. "So what's wrong with me?"

"Well, the magic eight ball was inconclusive on that one, so I guess I'm just going to have to examine you, run some tests and figure it out. And here I was so looking forward to catching my soap opera. First things first, we need to get that gunk off your face so we can monitor your pallor."

"Hand me a washcloth?" she asks.

House hands her one and she reaches into her purse on the side table, pulling out a can of cold cream. She spreads it on her face with two fingers and then rubs it vigorously off with the towel. House notes that she is very pale, and her lips are barely pink and what color is there is probably a stain from the red lipstick she was wearing.

"I'm sure I look a real fright. To be fair, I don't go out in the sun without spf50 . The thought of skin cancer is really scary to me," she explains.

"How many times have you fainted?" He asks, cutting right to the point.

"That was the first time. Last night on stage. I usually have butterflies before I go on, but I felt really sick. My assistant laced me into my corset; she's new so I thought maybe she'd laced it too tight. I asked her to loosen it, because I was having trouble breathing. I got out on stage and it didn't get better. Next thing I know I'm here. There's some vague groggy flashes of what I think was the ambulance ride from what the ER nurse told me..."

"How tight did you lace the corset?"

"Not tight enough to cut off my circulation, if that's what you're suggesting. That's an amateur mistake."

"And you're no amateur."

"No, sir."

"Your file mentions bruising," he states, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Yes. On my...chest. And the back of my neck, and the tops of my feet," she replies.

House comes over to the bed, and pulls down the front of the hospital gown to examine the chest bruises. She was definitely using chest as a euphemism, he thinks to himself, and what a chest it is.

"Black, blue, and perky," he comments.

At that moment, Wilson walks into the patient's room.

"House! Miss, let me apologize for my insensitive colleague Dr. House, here," he states with a bit of a grin.

"Anna, please," she says, smiling. "And my job means I'm naked in front of theatre full of people, night after night. If I can't handle a sly little lewd comment, then I'm very ill indeed," she laughs weakly.

"And perky is a compliment, Dr. Wilson. That size and perky don't usually correlate so well," House says, mocking Wilson's tone.

"Can I speak with you outside for a minute?" Wilson asks.

"Lie back and support those things. I'll be back to continue this inquisition momentarily," House says, as he and Wilson go out into the hall.

"Cameron told me you suspected leukemia, so I came by to see if you wanted a consult," Wilson explains.

"You came by because they told you I eagerly went to deal with a patient," House counters.

"It might have had something to do with how fast I got here," Wilson concedes.

"Don't you have other cancer patients to save?"

"Actually, I have a lull right now. It's odd. I'm bored. Let me on the case."

"Now, you're starting to sound like me," House says.

Beepers start sounding from Anna's room and nurses rush in past House and Wilson. They follow. She is convulsing, and before either Doctor has a chance to order the administering of drugs, the seizure stops. Her eyes are rolled back in her head until she takes a shuddering gasp and starts breathing again.

"Make that incident number two in 24 hours," House quips.

"Does that mean...?" Wilson asks, looking at House.

"Yes, Jimmy, you can ogle the pretty stripper, but you have to do the bone marrow tests yourself. I think I'm going to put Foreman on my clinic duty, and the other two don't quite have the steady hand for sampling marrow," House explains.

"Deal."

"Good. Spot me a five? I'm hungry. I need a Ruben."

[***}

"Chase, Cameron: Search the stripper's apartment. Look for anything that might point to alternative conditions that cause anemia, fainting, seizures, exhaustion, bruising, and general blood thinning. And Chase, keep your kinky hands out of her feather boas and lingerie. Cameron, same goes for you; no playing dress-up. Foreman: good news. For once, I will not be holding your juvenile ways against you. You, my friend, are not breaking into anything today. Rejoice in the progress. You are taking my clinic duty. And hurry, I'm late!" House instructs his team, kicking his feet up on the desk and pulling out his PSP.

"I thought you thought she looked good for leukemia," Chase interjects.

"Leukemia is too easy. I don't like easy. And it doesn't explain all the symptoms. So, until Wilson's tests come back conclusive, we keep digging. Now scram."

[***}

"Alright, Anna, lay on your side for me," Wilson says gently.

She tries to role from her back to her side, but her arms are weak and she's unable to support herself. A look of shock flashed across her face. Wilson sees it, and rushes to help her. He rolls her onto her side.

"Thanks. You know, it's funny... I've always taken my body for granted. I use it to earn my living. Now, it's turning on me," she muses.

"You're not the only one," Wilson assures her. "Alright, I'm just going to roll up the gown here."

"You know, I have a master's degree in post-modern American literature. Unfortunately, writing academic papers doesn't pay the bills, but taking off your clothes in a vintage-themed and 'classy' way does."

"To be honest, this is going to hurt," Wilson interjects.

Anna nods. She moves the pillow in front of her face and bites down on it as the needle goes in. She sobs out a few breaths before she is able to gain her composure. She peels the pillow away from her face as Wilson begins to draw out the marrow.

"Have you had any joint pain?" Wilson asks, trying to stay on topic in the face of the very distracting exposed curve of her back.

"No. Walking in four inch heels would be murder if I had joint pain. You think this is leukemia?"

"Dr. House is considering the possibility."

"You're the oncologist. What are my odds if it is leukemia?"

"We have a few treatment options, but it really depends on what the tests tell us on how far advanced the cancer is. If you have cancer."

"It must be hard to be so hopeful when you see sick and dying people every day," she offers as he draws the syringe out.

"Optimism is powerful," he replies.

"Can't save a marriage though," she remarks with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you...?"

"Tan line on your ring finger."

[***}

"So what did you find at her apartment?" House asks Chase and Cameron when they return.

"Nothing," Cameron replies with wonder.

"Nothing kinky?" House asks.

"That's the surprising bit. No lingerie or burlesque paraphernalia. Her closet is full of clothing a nun would approve of. The apartment looked like an old English book store exploded," Chase explains.

"If it's dirt you want, her stage name is Lola Lima," Cameron offers with a shrug.

"That's fun. A bit cliché, but fun," House jokes. "Any possible neurotoxins?"

"Nothing suspicious," Chase states.

In walks Wilson.

"Dr. Womanizer! Do you have the patient's test results?" House asks jubilantly.

"You're going to like this. She tested negative for leukemia," Wilson states, handing House the test results. "She's also showing a new symptom: muscle weakness."

"And the blood tests?" House drills the team.

"Some basophilic stippling, but that could just be megaloblastic anemia. Her B12 is low," Cameron reports.

"Appendicitis?" Chase wonders aloud.

"No fever, and she'd be close to dead by now if that was the case," Foreman counters.

"That's right, she's just pale, not sweaty or septic," House mocks.

"Encephalitis?" Foreman offers.

"Quite possible," House replies.

"Lyme disease?" Cameron asks.

"Also possible. We'll have to redo the MRI," Foreman agrees.

House nods in approval.

"If she has no fever... what about Guillain-Barre syndrome from an infection?" Chase tries.

"I like it. However, she's just weak, not paralyzed yet... Dr. Wilson doesn't flirt with other cripples, he knows it makes me jealous... so we'll put that on the back-burner," House says sarcastically.

Wilson rolls his eyes.

"Cameron, go with Wilson when he gives her the good news that it's likely not cancer that is killing her. If he drools over her too much, you can mop up after him. Slippery hospital floors are a real danger, you know. Take some more blood and order another MRI," House instructs.

"Yes, sir," Cameron replies, exiting the room after an annoyed Wilson.

"Do you have an idea?" Foreman inquires.

"Now that would be telling," House quips.

[***}

Anna sits up in bed, and re-applies the bright red lipstick. Her assistant puts the tube back in her purse and hands Anna a new glossy 8 by 10. Anna signs the portrait with a flourish and adds a bright red kiss. Her assistant takes the photo and places it in a manila envelope and adds it to the growing pile while handing Anna another picture. Every dozen photos or so, she reapplies the lipstick to ensure a solid imprint. She's smiling, but her color hasn't improved at all.

Wilson taps on the glass. She looks over and smiles at him. He smiles back. Cameron and Wilson enter the room.

"Afternoon, Doctor Wilson," Anna says. "Doctor Cameron."

"What are you up to?" Cameron asks.

"We sold out a theatre with two thousand seats on the premise that I would be performing. Since I'm still here and too weak to sneak out and perform, I'm autographic pin-ups for every audience member. They could be valuable if I kick-off," she jokes. "Want one, Doctor Wilson?" she adds, raising an eyebrow provocatively.

"We have good news," Wilson says, keeping himself in check. "You don't have leukemia."

She smiles, and plants a kiss on another photograph. Taking up her pen, she signs the photo. "To..."

"James," he replies.

"To James Wilson, the messenger who comes bearing good news," she says.

As she goes to hand him the photograph, she begins to seize violently. Wilson and Cameron spring into action.

[***}

"She seized again," Wilson sighs, resting his head on his palm in House`s office.

"We sedated her, drew blood and performed the MRI," Cameron adds.

"Test results?" House asks.

"No infection," Chase responds.

"No Lyme disease," Cameron adds.

House crosses-off two possibilities on the board.

"MRI is mostly normal," Foreman sighs, putting the image on the light board.

House looks at the image suspiciously for a moment before crossing off their last possibility.

"That's five in a row diagonal, and I do believe we have a bingo!" House declares.

House strides off towards the patient's room with Wilson, Cameron, Chase, and Foreman close behind him. Anna is sleeping, so he prods at her leg with his cane until she wakes up.

"No lying. No playing brave. How long have you been experiencing chronic pain?" House demands. "And when did the weakness start? You hired a new assistant to lace you up, so obviously you got too weak to do it yourself."

"A... a few months ago. I lost some weight and I had the flu. It took me a while to recover," she replies, confused.

"Did you happen to remodel your apartment or move?" House barks out.

"No," she replies. "What is this about?"

"Foreman, run her blood lead levels now. We're rolling her over for an x-ray now," House instructs.

Foreman dashes out of the room and Cameron calls down to radiology.

"Lead poisoning?" Chase asks aloud.

House grabs Anna's purse from the side table and dumps the contents out on the bed. He singles out the lipstick and tosses it to Wilson.

"Test that."

[***}

The next morning House and Cameron enter Anna's room early, test results in hand.

"Well, Lola," House begins.

Cameron elbows him in the ribs. "Anna," she corrects.

"Looks like there is a high price for vanity. Your recent switch in red lipstick is killing you. 'Brick red' is the color of death... twelve times the lead of the leading shade," House quips.

"You have lead poisoning. It's treatable," Cameron clarifies.

"Is it painful?" she asks.

"No. It's easy. You'll have to stay in the hospital while we administer a chelating agent via IV which will bind to the lead and allow it to pass through your system. You're also going to be monitored very closely for vitamin deficiencies which can be a side effect," Cameron explains.

[***}

Coming off of his shift, Wilson stops by Anna's room with a coffee from the cafeteria.

"Feeling better?" he asks handing her the coffee.

"A little. Thank you," she says, touching his arm. "I feel weak and I know I'll probably never be able to go on stage again."

"I can recommend a physiotherapist..."

"It's alright. I've been looking for an excuse to retire for a long time. It'll be nice to be myself again."

"How so?" he asks, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"You know what it's like when you start something new and it makes you feel great. You're happy and everything is new and you start to think that maybe you can finally be content... maybe this time you've found it. Then, you wake up one day and you realize it's become just another routine, and you think that that feeling will go away if you try harder. So you try harder to make it work out like you thought it would, but all that ends up happening is you start playing a character in your own life. You stop being true to yourself, because your true self wants out but your brain says you can fix it and be better than ever if you could just stick with something for once... It's been like that since I stopped performing to pay-off my loans and I committed to it as a full-time job," she explains gently, hand still on Wilson's arm.

"You just described my last three marriages," he says, wincing and looking away.

She slides her hand down his arm and squeezes his hand.

"I'm optimistic that someday everyone finds something that doesn't turn into a burden one rainy Tuesday morning," she says softly.

He squeezes her hand back.

"Once I can wheel around this IV stand and walk without falling, I owe you a coffee," she says, tipping back the cup to take a drink.


End file.
